Quiet
by RealmOfPossibility
Summary: Maybe everyone had a different face underneath. Except him. He didn't have another face. One-shot from Roland's perspective, based on spoilers for the rest of 4B.


**A/N It has been awhile. I wanted to write a little one-shot from Roland's perspective, as I doubt the show will deal with any of the fallout from his mother suddenly morphing! General spoilers/speculation for the rest of 4B, especially around Robin and Roland's return to Storybrooke in later episodes.**

**Thanks for reading.**

Quiet

It was quiet in the car.

Quieter than it had been in a long time. Since they'd been in that place, where everything was made of metal and something called concrete and people shouted over one another to be heard. Where people and birds and just about everything had flown at his face, rushed this way and that.

Sometimes it had been exciting. After he understood that it was all just noise, he would look around, sure his eyes were just about to fall out of his head as he tried to look in every direction at once. Buildings. Shops. Things he couldn't even describe, for they looked like nothing he'd ever seen, even in a book.

But, it had made him cry at night, sometimes. When he didn't want to see anymore, couldn't take anything more in. It was those times when he missed the forest.

But, here in Storybrooke, it was quiet again. And he'd caught sight of the forest as they'd driven further and further away from the city. Then, he'd fallen asleep and by the time he was awake again, he recognised the forest.

The car was quiet. Voices, loud and angry, still caught his ears, though.

Papa's voice, sharp and cross. He'd almost never heard Papa speak like that.

And Mama's voice.

But, it wasn't Mama's voice, was it? It was the angry lady with the bright red hair (Everyone was angry). He'd thought she was Mama. She had been Mama, hadn't she? She'd held his hand on the noisy streets and he'd gripped it tightly, afraid he'd be swallowed up in the crowd. He'd rested his head in her lap at night and he'd felt her fingers in his hair as he fell to sleep. Her arms around him had been soft and wonderful and it had almost felt like a memory. But, he couldn't remember her from before, so it wasn't a memory.

He remembered being in Storybrooke before. He had been with Papa and Regina. There'd been ice cream. Regina always let him have ice cream.

And then he'd seen _her_.

A beautiful lady with dark hair. She'd been wearing clothes he'd seen on everyone, back when they'd lived in the forest (everyone wore strange clothes in Storybrooke). And when he'd seen _her_, he'd remembered the times when Papa, some strange look on his face, had told him all about his Mama. She was the most beautiful lady in the realm. She made people laugh until their sides hurt. She was brave and fierce and loved him very much.

He didn't really know what that felt like. He knew what Papa was like. Papa was like a big bear, soft and gentle, then strong and angry. And Papa was mighty stern when he did something naughty.

No, he didn't know what Mama felt like.

But, then he'd seen _her_.

And he remembered his Papa's stories. _She_ was his Mama. He felt it. Who else could she be?

And now she wasn't.

He lifted his head and dared to look out the window. Everybody was there. Everybody looked angry. And scared. That must be what his face looked like, too. Though he didn't think he felt angry. He didn't know exactly how he felt.

The angry lady with the red hair was there. David was holding her arm tightly and she was shaking her arm, trying to make him let go.

He saw Papa and Regina, standing very close together. Papa was holding Regina's hand.

He'd missed Regina. He'd thought about her sometimes, in the city, when everyone was asleep but him. He'd thought about the way she had smiled at him when she'd given him the monkey. Her smile was always so kind and her hand was always warm when he held it.

Mama's hands had been cold. Even when they'd been inside all day or they were tucked under a blanket.

Cold. But, she'd had his Mama's face.

He looked away from Regina and at the lady with the red hair. Her face was ugly, her mouth all twisted as she spoke. He couldn't hear what she was saying. He didn't want to. It wouldn't be his Mama's voice.

He looked down at his lap. He didn't want to see her anymore. Her face was wrong. It wasn't his Mama's face.

Papa had been right. Mama was beautiful.

He'd thought she loved him.

She'd loved him, hadn't she?

Was she here anymore?

* * *

He wasn't hungry.

There was a milkshake and fries on the table in front of him. Granny had given him extra ketchup. She'd remembered he liked that.

But, he didn't want to eat the fries. He felt bad because Granny was very kind. She would look after him the way Papa had asked her to.

Papa had sat him down, right here, and said he needed to do something very important, something that would help everything be better. He'd asked if he wouldn't mind staying awhile with Granny. Just a little while. Papa's face had been so serious and he'd thought for a moment that maybe Papa was afraid. But, Papa was never afraid. Maybe Papa needed him to be brave.

Papa would be back soon anyway. Maybe Papa would eat his fries and then Granny wouldn't be angry that he couldn't.

His stomach felt heavy and full from something else.

People kept looking at him. He wished they wouldn't. It looked like they might come and talk to him and he didn't want that either. He felt like being quiet.

Where could he go to be quiet? He thought hard and it came to him.

Yes, he knew a place.

So, he waited. Waited until they'd stared at him long enough until they realised there was really nothing to see and then they all stopped looking at him. Waited until Granny went into the kitchen with an armful of dishes and couldn't see him.

He hopped off his chair and walked quickly to the door.

He remembered the way.

* * *

The grass was damp from the cold morning. He poked a stick in the dirt under his feet and shifted his position on the bench. The birds squawked at each other and flapped their wings, making the water in the lake splash about.

But, it was quiet. No more angry voices. No more screeching metal and shouting. He didn't feel happier, but he was glad to be here by the water. Mama had been here with him. They'd fed the birds.

He sat until the bench started feeling hard underneath him. His legs dangled off the edge. He wasn't tall enough for his feet to reach the ground. He wished his Mama was here to put her arms around him. The lady with the red hair didn't want to. She'd said unkind words about him. He didn't know what they meant, but she'd said it with such an ugly voice, he knew it had been unkind. Words that had made his Papa madder than he'd ever seen him. Was that Papa looking like he'd never seen him? He wasn't sure.

He hoped Papa wouldn't change into someone else. He couldn't remember ever not seeing Papa's face. Sometimes it was the only thing he could remember.

There was a rumble behind him. A car. He'd heard that noise a lot in the city and then all the way back to Storybrooke. The car stopped behind him and he heard the door open and close with a bang. Footsteps quickly clattered towards him. It wasn't Papa. He felt himself clench inside. Maybe it was the lady with red hair. Maybe she had come to take him away.

"_He's here, down by the lake."_

His shoulders sagged a little. He knew that voice.

"_Roland?"_

He swallowed.

"Roland?"

She was in front of him now and bending down. Her dark pants brushed against his knees, she was so close. He looked at the buttons of her coat. He didn't want to look at her face, the beautiful face with the kind smile. Maybe it would be gone, changed into the angry red-haired lady's face. Maybe everybody had a face beneath. Except him. He didn't have another face.

"Roland, your Papa's been looking for you," Regina said, putting her hand on the bench next to him to balance herself. Maybe she would put her arms around him. "He was very worried when he couldn't find you."

"It's quiet here," he whispered. He looked up. It was Regina's face, though she didn't look happy. Maybe it was about to get ugly and change, just like his Mama's face had changed.

"Are you Regina?" he asked. His voice sounded very small in his ears. His throat felt thick, like he was about to cry. He swallowed and looked down. He didn't want to cry. Not if this wasn't Regina at all.

There was a long pause and he chanced another look. Regina still looked unhappy, but now her eyes were shiny.

"Yes, Roland. It's me." Her voice was soft, barely a voice at all. He always liked it when she spoke to him.

She held out her hand, the hand not on the bench next to his leg, and he looked up at her again. She was smiling, just a little smile. It was always so kind, that smile. He couldn't remember it being anything else. He looked hard at her face, her dark eyes, her smooth skin. Her hair was a bit longer than before. She was beautiful. It looked like her face, but then, so had his Mama's.

And suddenly the quiet felt frightening, like all the shadows of all the scary things that had happened in the past couple of days were about to rise up from the lake and swallow him up.

He felt a feeling inside him, joining the heaviness and making it heavier.

Somehow, he knew Mama was gone and wasn't coming back. He didn't know where she'd gone and Papa hadn't told him so, but his heart felt it. Did the heart feel things like that, even without a lot of memories?

The cold had joined the quiet.

Regina's hand still hovered in the air, palm up towards him. He reached out and put his hand in Regina's. Her fingers closed over his.

Her hand was warm.


End file.
